It was some time before Weazel could recollect himself; but at length, reassuming his big look, he said, “’Sdeath! why did he ride away before I had time to ask him how his lord and his lady do? Don’t you remember Tom, my dear?” addressing his wife. “Yes,” replied she; “I think I do remember something of the fellow; but you know I seldom converse with people of his station.” “Hey-day!” cried Joey; “do you know the young man, coptain?” “Know him?” cried Weazel; “many a time has he filled a glass of Burgundy for me at my Lord Trippett’s table.” “And what may his neame be, coptain?” said Joey. “His name!—his name,” replied Weazel, “is Tom Rinser.” “Wounds!” cried Joey, “a has changed his own neame then! for I’se lay any wager he was christened John Trotter.” This raised a laugh against the captain, who seemed very much disconcerted; when Isaac broke silence and said, “It was no matter who or what he was, as he had not proved the robber they suspected. They ought to bless God for their narrow escape.” “Bless God!” said Weazel, “for what? Had he been a highwayman I should have eaten his blood and body before he had robbed me or any one in this diligence.” “Ha, ha, ha!” cried Miss Jenny; “I believe you will eat all you kill, indeed, captain.” The usurer was so well pleased at the end of this adventure that he could not refrain from being severe, and took notice that Captain Weazel seemed to be a good Christian, for he had armed himself with patience and resignation, instead of carnal weapons, and worked out his salvation with fear and trembling; whereupon, amidst much laughter, Weazel threatened to cut the Jew’s throat. The usurer, taking hold of this menace, said:—“Gentlemen and ladies, I take you all to witness, that my life is in danger from this bloody-minded officer: have him bound over to the peace.” This second sneer procured another laugh against the captain, who remained crestfallen for the rest of the journey. XXV THE remaining miles to Gateshead are made up of the shabby village of Low Fell, where the road begins to rise, and the uninteresting way over the ridge of the Fell itself. By the word “Fell,” North of England people describe what Southerners call a hill. The common land of Gateshead Fell, 675 acres, was enclosed under Acts of Parliament, 1809, 1822. [Picture: Modern Newcastle: from Gateshead]